


Blooming Days

by puppydeanandjen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Floral Witch!Sam, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Magical Tattoos, Post-Season/Series 03, sam has a puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 16:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18237371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppydeanandjen/pseuds/puppydeanandjen
Summary: Today is Sunday





	Blooming Days

**Author's Note:**

> Read on tumblr [here](https://puppydeanandjensen.tumblr.com/post/183703210396/blooming-days-rating-t-word-count-2k-tags)
> 
> For the Sam Winchester Zine. Title is taken from an EXO-CBX's album of the same name. Thank you to ladylilithprime for betaing my fic and to the mods of this beautiful zine.

Today is Sunday.  

At least, that’s what the flowers are telling him. Bright white lilies bloom in the morning glow that peers through the glass windows of his quaint bedroom. Easter Lilies to be exact. Christ rising from the dead. Sunday.

Sam’s sleepy eyes blink through the still bleary outer rims of his vision, watching the plants inch closer to his bed. He can feel the blankets covering him slowly peel away as a fuzzy texture grazes over his bare thighs; a gentle chillness is accompanied by the loss of layers, but the spring sun is beginning to warm the cold away. Birds are chirping their ever sweet melody into the fresh, morning air as if they're praising the fact that another day has come.

Time to wake up now.

As he rises from his bed, the green vines near his feet inch away and he swings off, wooden planks beneath him creaking at the pressure. He takes a nice look at the forest beyond the flimsy, enchanted walls of his cottage, greens of trees and grass seemingly brighter than ever. A calm after the winter storm.

A small smile stretches across his face.

The vines tickle his cheek and back-tugging him away from his thoughts. 

“Alright, alright,” Sam chuckles. “I’m going.”

On the way out, he picks up a couple of worn out spellbooks he’ll need for the day from the oak shelves at the other side of the room and some jeans and flannel from the dresser below to change into later. 

His steps are quiet as he exits, tiptoeing through the cluttered, open area that’s bathed in sunlight.

There are only three separate rooms in his home: the bedroom, the bathroom, and then just a cluster of a kitchen, living room, and dining room trying to fit together somehow in such a small place. So bookcases and shelves cover the walls to hold all of his supplies in this petite home, packed to the brim with food, tools, magical ingredients, more spellbooks, and tons of potted plants of almost every type as it fills the place in bright hues over the dark encasings. Other than that, there’s only a table and a simple, vintage kitchen-with matching light green jars that he bought initially with the set-, resembling ones for children.

Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t really have any visitors.

He gently sets the books on his rustic, circular dining table. It’s crooked and wobbly just like him during those very first nights when he’d moved into this cottage. Purpose found, but hope lost.

The nudging brings him back to reality as more vines around the house awaken from their slumber. The refreshing scent of lavender is spread all around him as the flowers bloom in his passing. Happy that their caretaker as finally risen.

Yawning, he stretches his arms a bit as makes his way back near the bedroom to the bathroom next door. It’s smaller than his bedroom, but it’s adequate: has a shower, sink, toilet, towel rack, and mirror. Just right to supplement his needs. He used to keep plants in here too, but they kept tickling him in the shower to the point that he had to kick them out.

Turning on the faucet, he stares into the mirror, twisting his head to the right a bit. Fingers trace over the assortment of vibrant, colorful tattoos of flowers ranging from irises to daffodils growing on his neck. The bunch started appearing when he first delved into the practice of witchcraft; although none of the other witches he knows have had this occur to them. 

Magic is strange, he supposes.

There’s a new bud resting there today: a violet bud high up the side of his neck, but still an inch below the chin. Last time, about a week ago, it was a Plumeria bud-simple, pure white with yellows tinting the middle as if a pipette had dropped a speck of dye onto it-, bloomed a couple days ago while the one before-a bright red poppy-took a month to appear and another week to unravel. Completely random these things.

Magic is very strange.

He cleans himself quickly and efficiently, slipping on the clothes for the day before stepping outside to be tackled to the ground by a small tan furball. Black beady-eyes peek up at him, big, pointy ears perking upward with it. A wet tongue slides over his face and Sam chuckles as his arms wrap around the corgi on his chest.

“Morning, Jay,” he says and Jay energetically yips back. His heart warms as he stands to his feet, snuggling his familiar in closer. “Sleep well?”

Jay nods, leaning in closer to lick his face again. It’s only been a half a month since Sam had first summoned him, but he’s already so used to the puppy’s presence. Maybe, it’s because he’s used to having company. That he’s so used to having someone there with him that he can’t be comfortable without being in the proximity of another living being.

Sam bites his lips, pausing a bit. Can’t focus on that now. Gotta finish his tasks. Today’s orders for the good witches that are waiting for him.  

Walking outside, he sets the puppy down onto the ground, moving over to his kitchen while Jay strolls across the fuzzy, light brown rug-Sam had gotten it at a yard sale during one of his periodic trips down into town to pick up supplies-and settles down on the small pillow fort near the brick fireplace, curling up into a nice little ball.

It’s still early in the morning. Probably only woke up when Sam stepped out of his room.

When he turns his head away from the scene, he spots a mug on the small, wood counter of his kitchen. There’s steam rising from it, he observes, walking closer as the rich aroma of roast reaches him. His hands wrap around the ceramic, appreciating the fleeting warmth of the dark liquid inside, and he slowly brings it to his lips, sipping the contents. It’s bitter with after hints of sugar: strong yet sweet, just the way he likes it. Energy runs through him, the slight weariness quickly dissipating as he continues to drinks.

Sam’s gaze leads upward to the plants on the shelf above, still midway in retraction.

“Thank you,” he says softly, pulling the cup away from his lips, and the flowers curtly as if almost shyly, nod in response. Now that he’s fully awake, it’s time to get to work.

Placing the mug into the sink, he picks up a book-one of the thicker of the bunch-from his table and flips to the bookmarked page. Hands running through the paper, he reads the ingredients.

“Two dandelion roots,” he says and he can hear the house coming to life, rustling behind him as they heed to his commands. “Three hibiscus petals.”

He pauses as a small, folded piece of paper gradually slides out of the bottom from in between pages of the large book. Curiously, Sam puts the heavy book down, gingerly tugging it out and opening it. His throat suddenly goes dry as he scans the title.

 _Soul Retrieval Spell._  

Sam bites his lip, but he isn’t trembling like the last time he saw this piece, back when he was a fucking mess trying to desperately reject the truth. It’s been too long for him to be able to deny anything. A tap on his shoulder startles him back and he sputters out the next ingredient.

“Two-Two pieces of Lemongrass.”

Then he shuts the book close with the paper between the folds, taking one last look before rushing towards the counter, away from the pile of distractions. All the materials he’d spoken are all laid out there: the red, slightly crinkly, round petals of the Hibiscus flower, the earthy brown, wacky shaped roots of the Dandelion, and the green, thin stripes of Lemongrass. Time to get started.

Leaning over to the sink again, he jerks the drawer beneath open, revealing the utensils for his version of witchcraft all neatly laid out. Grabbing the knife, two white tea filter bags, and a stapler, he pushes it closed, setting them down on the counter before he bends further down to the cabinets for a small mixing bowl held there, grabbing that as well. He begins to chop up the ingredients into small little pieces, pouring them into the bowl beside him.

Magic rises from the cut pieces, riding his fingertips, wanting to be one again with its owner, but he ignores it because if it did return, then his creation would no longer have any effect.

As soon as all of them are inside, Sam opens one of the four jars-with the label, ‘Oolong’,-in front of him and uses the scooper inside to dump the dried, cracky brown leaves into the bowl. He mixes the contents with his hand until they’re all evenly mixed.

Satisfied, he carefully uses the scooper to pour it into the two, little tea bags, folding the tops over and sealing them with a single staple. Reaching back into the drawer, he takes a little brown paper bag and sticks the tea bags inside, finishing it off with the little piece of tape from the tape dispenser also in the drawer.

Soon these mini concoctions of herbs will awaken as the boiling water sets the magic truly alight, granting Divination for those drink. Well, for this certain blend it will. And that’s what his magic is. Simple and easy and straightforward. Could almost be classified as normal if not for the supernatural power his new work called for. If only his life had been that way too.

“Jay,” He calls, twisting around, and the corgi’s ears automatically pop up, rushing towards him to the tune of the cute pitter-patters of paws on the hardwood.

“I need you to deliver these to Ms.Ericson,” he says, squatting down as he hands the puppy the little bag.

Jay barks eagerly in response, biting the top of the bag, before running off towards the entrance and disappearing before hitting the door.

Once Jay leaves, Sam’s usual kind smile drops, allowing distractions overwhelm him-after all, they never really left in the first place-and he slowly makes his way to the back door.

A petite greenhouse awaits him outside-lies just behind his own abode surround by the wildlife of the woods. Walls made of glass allow natural sunlight to touch upon the beautiful variety of vibrant flowers that he’s planted in there over the year. When it rains, a black coating runs over the outside while the inside still retains the light. An eternal spring.

The Forever Garden.

That’s what he calls this place. Because, in it, flowers can flourish without ever having to worry about wilting due to his magic keeping them alive.

And in the middle of the flora lies a glass coffin propped up on a pedestal, holding a sleeping man with a tattered soul.

“Hey Dean,” Sam whispers, kneeling before the casket. His big brother’s face is deathly pale, eyes shut with the mouth parted slightly open: peaceful. Completely motionless as he lies inside of the container. The outfit is exactly the same as that horrid day, but the tears left by claws are no longer there as if the sharpened nails had never bore themselves into the skin.

But Sam remembers and that’s what counts-vivid memories so high in his mind that he’s constantly suffocating on them, no matter how much he tries to focus on his work. The clothing is just another reminder of his still incomplete mission, even though he’d done everything he could to sew the pieces back together. He places a hand over the glass, tears welling in his eyes.

“Please-Please wake up soon,” he chokes out. _Please, don’t leave me alone anymore._  

Sam can see his own reflection in the glass, noticing that the violet bud has finally sprouted on his neck into a gorgeous array of curled, pointed petals: _Chrysanthemums._

He begins to pray then.

He prays for life.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PuppyLoey_)


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